Damon woke up feeling like his whole body was bruised. Moving hurt, breathing hurt, existence hurt. Perhaps that was why he couldn’t go back to sleep, even though the sun had yet to come out. Or maybe it was just the habits built up during basic rearing their ugly head and biting him. Either way, he couldn’t find it in him to stay in bed and ignore the strange alien world outside.

He got up, made the bed, dressed up with itchy clothes, checked the locks, undid the cloth locks, and left the room. They’d not given him shoes. His feet, apparently, were too large for anything readily available. So he’d have to either stay barefoot or improvise for the time being.

The house was quiet. He figured Han and Sybil were asleep.

Walking down creaky stairs, he raided some food and water. The lack of any form of meat rattled his thoughts, his lips pursed in thought to Han’s words.

“Edicts of peace my ass.”

More than a few people Damon knew would have quite loudly proclaimed those very things in far ruder ways. As it stood, he could only try to push the thoughts of his friends to the side and focus on the now.

He took a sparse breakfast, not wanting to impose too hard on his hosts. He cleaned up after himself and went to the washroom. The stench of stale blood and sweat greeted him. The gaper’s fur had remained there throughout the night, still stained in goopy blue blood, waiting for him.

A quick check confirmed the water supply for the shower had been restored, either partially or totally. So he plugged the tub, dumped the fur in, poured water, and began using the pumice to scrub at it. The fur and scales were coarse, tough, and though Damon suspected the pumice would have worn either out, it didn’t.

The physical activity allowed his mind to focus, to go back to the events of the previous day. By the looks of things, the cave may still hold some answers, and Sybil was interested in heading there as soon as she could get away with it. He’d definitely want to give it a second look over, hopefully find what brought him here and how.

“Gods.”

The word left a weird taste in Damon’s mouth. He’d never been too keen on the religion subject, but he’d learned to respect matters that were bigger than anyone would ever be. And several points about the gods Han had spoken of didn’t sit right with him, particularly the edicts, that was a whole can of worms. But what concerned Damon the most were the things that he’d kept quiet about.

“System, what is Janus?”

[...]

Query Answer:

Janus: For all your exploration and entertainment needs.

[...]

“That doesn’t sound like a god.”

“What doesn’t sound like a god?”

Damon didn’t scream, but he did spin around while holding the drenched gaper fur as a shield. Which was followed by him toppling over and nearly falling into the tub. Sybil was at the entrance of the bathroom, fully dressed and wearing her cape, face hidden by a cowl, only leaving her light brown eyes visible. Those same eyes were full of amusement at his reaction.

“You usually wake up this early?” She asked.

“Just force of habit.” He sheepishly returned the fur to the tub and got back to scrubbing. “Might as well clean this thing.”

Sybil nodded in acknowledgement. Since she didn’t comment anything else, he turned to continue the effort of getting all the blue gunk out of the fur and scales. He drained the tub once the water had gotten too blue, poured more water, and started all over again. He could feel her eyes on him as he worked, but he paid no mind, too used to having someone looking over his shoulder. A part of him expected her to point out any mistakes or if he was doing something wrong, but that was mostly the training talking.

The minutes stretched on, until the water stopped turning blue and Damon couldn’t find any more gunk to scrub. Only then did he glance over at the spot she’d been occupying, unsure if she’d left or not.

Sybil hadn’t moved an inch.

“Where can I hang this to dry?” He offered a way out of the silence.

“Sky’s cloudy. Better hang it inside.”

She stepped out of the bathroom, coming back a moment later with some strings. With little fanfare, she tied the ends of the strings at either side of the washroom to small hooks in the wood that were discreetly camouflaged with the rest of the wood.

Damon left the fur dangling from there and put his shirt back on. Sybil reached into a pouch inside her coat and brought out two silver cubes with a metal at one end. She placed the cubes on top of the damp fur and left the strings hanging at the sides.

After a handful of seconds, the strings began dripping water down to the tub.

“They’re wither seeds, they extract humidity from their surroundings and pour the water through the string.” She explained. “They’re one of the better options available to get water while out in the wilderness. Worth the cost.”

Damon glanced at her and nodded. “Is there anything I can help with? Breakfast maybe?”

Rumbling thunder rattled outside.

“Do you know what a monster rebirth is?”

“No.”

“Monsters come out of the ground.” She declared. “And they will usually remain near the area they were born in. When you kill a monster, a new one of the same kind will usually emerge after a handful of days. This is called rebirth.”

“They sprout from the dirt? Like some sort of plant?”

“Exactly. Monster seeds appear underground, usually about a meter under the surface, sometimes deeper, and from it the monster is born. If you can find a seed and dig it out, then that is one less monster to worry over.”

“Like the wither seeds?” Damon frowned.

“Withers are a type of monster common in the wetlands. They suck blood out of their victims. They’re about the size of a fist and have a habit of swarming.”

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“And I thought mosquitoes were bad. What happens if I bury those seeds?”

“Nothing. The seeds are very sensitive. If you unearth one, it’ll die.”

“So this rebirth, they… wait for the monsters outside to die before popping out?”

“Usually, yes.”

“Why?”

“Probably to avoid having to compete for food. That and the older the monster, the stronger they become. A newborn would easily become food.” Sybil replied. “Either way, I checked with the knight, and the gaper cave hadn’t been cleared in years, so a rebirth is likely to happen.”

“Another gaper, joy.”

“The good news is that if it dies, it will probably be months before another gaper emerges there. And it wouldn’t have a chance for a rebirth to occur if cleared out quickly enough.” She nodded slightly. “Hopefully, they’d be able to dig-out the area and find the seeds.”

“And the monster stops showing up?”

Sybil shrugged. “Sometimes. The only certainty we have is that if a monster was in an area, that area can have that monster again. Sometimes it does, sometimes it doesn’t, sometimes years pass, and a monster thought to be eradicated appears again.” She shook her head. “The reason I talk about this is that Han and I had originally come here in search of the ‘third bolt of luminosity’. It is a monster lord with electrical capabilities.”

“So… what does that have to do with me?”

“The last third bolt of luminosity was slain near this village roughly two years ago. We came here because we found records showing that the particular type of monster lord emerges soon after heavy rainfall. And there had been none in the area since the last one’s extermination.”

“That doesn’t answer the question.”

“I had intended to leave for the gaper cave, but a storm is approaching. If we are lucky, the lord will emerge.” She looked into his eyes with a deep scowl. “I would request you wait for us to finish with the lord.”

“Like… what? Just stay here and wait?”

“You may feel tempted to accompany us to fight the lord, but-.”

“Oh no, fuck that.” Damon laughed. “If I can stay put and wait, by all means.”

Sybil looked at him, eyes wide and blinking slowly. They took a moment to narrow in suspicion. “So you would not chase after us?”

“I want to go back home. Dying to a monster will not help with that.”

“I… that makes sense.” She took a step back, giving a hesitant nod before her shoulders slumped. “I guess that makes sense.” Her voice repeated, less enthusiastically. “I will talk to Han. We will attempt to depart once we can confirm the lord has emerged.”

“And the knight guy?”

“He should have his familiar properly fixed by today. But even if he didn’t, attacking the third bolt of luminosity soon after it emerges would be preferable to letting it gain power. It’s a type of monster that gathers charge from its surroundings to strengthen itself as time goes on.” She turned to Damon again. “And you will stay in the village, right?”

“You guys are the ones with a better idea about the whole Janus thing. Waiting for you to come back and then go check the cave seems like the most reasonable approach.” Damon hummed for a second. “If you don’t mind my asking, Han mentioned the familiar and it being different to a drone. What’s that about?”

“Familiars are alive, drones are not.” Sybil acknowledged. “The grafts to control drones and one to have a familiar work differently. Drones are a direct extension of the user. Familiars are their own entity, albeit one bound to the user.”

“So a familiar is more like an attack dog.”

“Dog? Is that a creature from your world?”

“My opinion of this world just lowered a bit more.” He frowned. “I’m not sure I like the idea of replacing my body with machine parts.”

“Grafts extend the body. It is as alive as flesh and blood.”

Damon glanced at her for a moment, frowning. “And when it gets damaged? Do you look for parts?”

“What? No!” She recoiled. “The Goddesses Rali and Irsi made grafts, it is not mere metal, oil, and resin. If your graft breaks, it can heal, in exactly the same way you would heal a cut or mend a broken bone. Better, even.”

“Talking from experience?”

Sybil paused, turned around, and glared. “Yes.” She reached down to her pants and pulled the cloth up to expose her lower legs. The sight of it made Damon freeze, realizing it was some sort of prosthetics. Her feet were not there, in their place there was a forward curved smoothed out opaque metal, her calves and knees replaced by a sinuous amalgamation of skin and metal that mimicked the shape of the lower legs but clearly weren’t. The design was stylized with a single etching of a blade on her outer right thigh. There were parts of the prosthetics that were so close to life like that, had he not focused on her clearly artificial feet, he wouldn’t have been able to notice everything from her knees onward was some sort of metal.

“Touch them.”

“No way.” Damon shook his head vigorously. His thoughts drifted to her well toned thighs and he shook his head a bit more intensely.

“Touch them.”

“I am most definitely not touching.”

“They are my legs and are what allowed me to catch up to you.” She replied, stomping her foot. “I can feel through them just as well as if they were normal feet. And their shape is only temporary until I can upgrade them.”

“So if I step on those, you’re going to feel pain?”

“You’re a big, burly oaf.” There was a smirk behind her cowl, her tone oozed with it. “Stomping on my foot would likely do more than hurt.”

“I will keep that in mind.” He crossed his arms. “Why in the world would you replace your legs with those, anyway?”

“Because I need to become stronger.”

The presence of iron in her voice caught Damon by surprise. He glanced at her, trying to read her expression through those hazel eyes. “Why?”

“There are things I must do that I am too weak to do as I am now.” She shook her head. “We meld our bodies with them through the wisdom of the Goddesses. Grafts are how users become stronger, how we protect others, and how we show our courage to Janus.”

Damon was tempted to voice several opinions about alleged divinity, but he’d been taught better. Instead, he tried to avoid the likely very rude conflict with the very people who’d given him food to fill his belly and a roof to sleep under. “How do grafts work?”

Sybil looked more than eager to answer. “Usually, a user can have up to fourteen grafts. Two per limb, three in the torso, and three in the skull. Though everyone has one or two grafts they’ve inherited due to their species or ancestry.” She intoned, leaning against the wall and letting her pant legs fall back down. “You can only get them in the thalaring, gifted in exchange of graft cores and materials.”

“Materials such as?”

“Such as the gaper pelt you have drying in the washroom.” She pointed at the door. “There is no certainty about what the goddesses will gift you with, but what you bring usually determines what you get.”

“Like the lightning graft you want from the lord.”

“Exactly.” She perked up. “I plan to bring some spider wire as well. Hopefully I will get a whip graft. Which would let me fight better at close range and also give me some other options for movement. Or a type upgrade.”

“Type upgrade?”

“Once you have a graft, you can enhance it up to ten times. There are direct upgrades, which are usually just an improved version. But there are also type enhancements, which add a new function or capability to your graft. You can only ever have one type upgrade per graft, though. My legs, for example, are a speed graft with a silent jump type upgrade.” She stomped her foot several times.

Damon quickly realized the only sound that came from the motion was the ruffling of her clothes. The foot impacting on the wood was entirely quiet.

“It was a bit of an upgrade I hadn’t been looking for. I was lucky though, some people get bad graft combinations that don’t work too well together.” She let out an exasperated sigh. “Some families put a lot of effort into making sure their heirs inherit the right set of grafts.”

“What?”

“Species grafts are inherited.” Sybil pointed out. “But for a normal graft, if you get it to the tenth upgrade, then your progeny will be born with a second level equivalent, regardless of their role. And they in turn would have to get it back up to the tenth upgrade for them to pass it on.”

Damon shuddered at that consideration, eyes going wide. The metal lump at the base of his skull itched, and he had to hold back from reaching up and scratching. There were a million thoughts going through his head, none comfortable.

“Is it really that surprising?” Sybil said, frowning slightly in concern. “You’re pale.”

“It’s a lot to take in.” His lips twitched into a nervous smile. “Like, a lot a lot.” He leaned against the wall a bit. “I think I’m going to need a minute to process this.”

Sybil glanced at him weirdly but nodded. “I have to get some food. Would you want to come with me?”

“What?”

“The fresh air should do you well.”

“Uh, yeah, air, I’m going to need that.”